


Wild beasts have no mercy

by Scarlett_lonelyhunter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Torture, Cannibalism, Disturbing Themes, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Multi, Past Hannibal, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Finale, Power Dynamics, Sexual Identity, Sexuality Crisis, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_lonelyhunter/pseuds/Scarlett_lonelyhunter
Summary: Hannibal and Will survived the fall. Alana and Margot are hidden trying to live a normal life again.Two months after the fall, Jack receives a call: someone knows where Hannibal is, and he will take him there in exchange for money. Jack visits Margot and Alana in the middle of the night.Meanwhile, Will is reading a book and thinking about Hannibal's past when the bell rings. Hannibal just says someone is going to join them for dinner.





	Wild beasts have no mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my first work and I'm so excited about it. It's been a long time since I wanted to write (more than one) Hannibal fandom, and finally, I'm doing it.  
> I'd really appreciate if you can leave a comment saying what do you think about it.  
> English is not my first language.

The night was cold but still, no wind rushed among the trees, not even a single leaf was moving between the branches. The snow was pure and white, and just a few tracks could be seen. Over the snow, the lights from the windows of a house were spilled in squared-shaped yellow figures, like a fire in the middle of the sea.  
They looked at each other and their eyes gleamed like a lighthouse in that cold and white sea.

 

“Is he sleeping yet?” she asked. “Yeah, I think so. He was restless. Nightmares.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. Alana woke up, “Want a drink?”. “Yes, please”. Margot opened her eyes, two emeralds.  
 “There’s nothing a good scotch can’t solve”. Alana handed her a glass with two ice cubes and a fine earth-toned liquid, redder in the light. She was smiling at her, her hair as black as always, her skin pale and smooth, her lips still red with lipstick.  
“Let’s pretend that”. Margot smiled back at her genuinely. Her curls (also redder because of the yellow light of the lamp) were framing her dolly face. “Cheers, lady.” “Cheers”. They took a sip and then they kissed slightly. A warm, familiar kiss.   
Margot went to the sofa and Alana sat down with her. The furniture of the house was tasteful, with a slightly resemblance to their old house. They left all the furniture there and bought new stuff. Alana wanted to think they would come back, Margot didn’t care – she wasn’t fond of that house, that’s why she never called it home since Alana moved there. The memories attached to that corridors, the sound her shoes made along theme, every creak of a door, every murmur behind theme she could hear even now. That house was a nest of snakes, though she was quite happy there with Alana and Dylan. Despite all those memories she would never have moved if it weren’t because of that two bastards because she got to the point where she didn’t care about these things. However, if they were moving, she wanted a proper house with proper furniture. In the end, as Alana thought back then, she’s always surrounded herself of expensive, luxurious things, even if she didn’t pay any attention to them, and so some things were inconceivable.  
“You look beautiful today” whispered, and touched her cheek, pulling a string of hair behind her ear.  
“Do I?” and laughed, and touched Alana’s hand, her soft skin. She kept looking at her eyes, those beautiful and now familiar blue eyes.  
“You know I love you, right?”. “I certainly do”. “Very well then.” Alana then laughed, and her laughter was like water finally running free from a water tank. “I love you too, Margot”. She kissed her again and then took another sip of whisky.  
Margot leaned back on the sofa and moved her glass, listening to the jingling of the ice cubes. “You know what? I’ve been thinking about travelling somewhere, just for a few days. Maybe we could spend New Year’s Eve somewhere else?”  
“How come?” Alana also leaned back on the sofa, enjoying the quietness and the crackling of the fire.  
“Yeah… don’t know, just need some fresh air. It’s boring here sometimes”. “I know” Alana replied “It’s a small town. Let’s go somewhere then!” She showed here teeth. “Dylan’s got long holidays. Mmh… where shall we go?” She put her finger on her bottom lip. “Somewhere where we can have a massage with a margarita”.  
“Oh, please!” Margot laughed and crossed her legs. “Let’s go to a spa on the mountains so we can also ski.”  
“Yeah, that’d be great. I think I might be able to take a break for Christmas, this amount of work is killing me.”  
“Bunch of bloody nutters” she said, overly dramatic.  
“It takes one to know one!” Alana replied, raising her tone at the end of the sentence and bending her head while smiling with just one corner of her red lips.  
They both laughed.  
“Indeed” said Margot.  
They looked at each other for a few seconds, smiling, saying nothing.

The bell rang. A short ring- a stab in the calmness of the air.

They startled, looked back at the door from over the sofa and then looked at each other. It’s been two months since they moved there and they’ve both been sensible enough to keep their past away. New names, new personalities, though Alana decided to keep working as a psychiatrist. In the end, that was her passion, or so she guessed. She wasn’t sure if it still was her passion or if it was just what was left for her because that was the only job she did during all her life. Putting that aside, they’ve been extremely careful. Jack Crawford was the only person from their past who knew their new names.  
Alana left her glass on the table.  
“Hang on. I’ll go” said Margot. She gently pressed her hand over Alana’s arm and felt the light fabric of Alana’s blouse under her touch. She stood up quickly and left her glass on the table. “Go upstairs. Just in case”.  
Alana said nothing. She stood up and took a glance at Margot’s eyes for a moment, then she went upstairs.  
When she was out of her sight, behind the shadows of the first floor, she went to the door.

Alana’s first thought was to go to Dylan’s room and get him ready, but then she changed her mind. If something happened she’d just need to pick him up and run off. Instead, she went to her room and put a pair of comfortable shoes on, then she went back to the corridor again and stood still against the wall, listening of what was happening downstairs.

Margot took her time. She knew Alana needed a few seconds, as well as she did: she took a deep breath and walked towards the door. She was aware that whoever was who was there at this time of night was aware someone was at home because the lights were on. However, she thought looking out the spyhole was worth it. She saw a woman. She seemed familiar. Oh, she was Oliver’s mum, one of the Dylan’s best friends. Margot opened the door.

“Hey, Kelly, what’re you doing here?”  
“Hi” Kelly smiled. She was wearing a big red anorak and she had the hood on. Her blue eyes and the wrinkles around them were framed by the furred hood. “Sorry to bother you this late but I found this on my letterbox this evening when I got home. And you know, Bob came back from work and he was hungry, and Oliver needed a bath and was hungry as well, and then I had to do the wash up… You leave men alone and they wouldn’t survive!”  
Margot didn’t have a lot in common with her: she was 40-something and had spent her whole life as a house wife. She married when she was young and Oliver was her fourth child. She had fun with gossip and afternoon tv series. Her only reading was Hello and she talked too much most of the time. She was chubby and small.

“Please, come in” said Margo, stepping aside so the older woman could sneak in.

Once the door was closed she slipped off her coat. 

“It’s so cold… I’ve been living here all my life and still can’t get used to this weather!” she gave Margot her anorak without asking and she started to take off her gloves. “You know… here in Legal you never know, darling… it’s a small town but still… the mailman gets confused sometimes…” she was trying to find something in her small old black-leathered bag while she was talking.  
“Oh, it’s ok. Would you like some tea?” Margot offered, as an intend to be polite.  
“Here it is! Thank you honey but I should come back. I don’t know how they could have mixed it up… I mean, the mail. It’s crazy… The old mailman, John, never got confused or lost” she sighed, a theatrical sigh, and shacked her head. She handed a letter to Margot and took her anorak from her hands. “Thank you, Ms. Bouchard” said, smiling, “it’s so kind of you. Coming all the way here so late…” Margot’s gaze moved to the letter that was in her hands.  
“it’s ok, it’s ok! It’d have ended lost, that house is a chaos” and laughed. “Well honey, I’ll see you around!” and closed the door. 

“Jesus, that was … weird” said Alana, walking down the stairs.  
“I didn’t even have time to say goodbye. That woman’s… If I ever remind you of her, please kill me.”  
“Promise. What’s in there?”, she asked.  
“We’ll find out soon” said Margot, ripping away the envelop.

Stay awake. I’ll be there in 30 minutes. Back door.  
Jack.

“Jack?” said Margot, a small wrinkle between her brows.  
Alana stood still, unable to say anything. A shiver ran through her shoulders and around her neck while her head started working like gears spinning around, trying to figure out what was going on.

+++

“You know, when we were young everything was different.” A flash of light, then nothing. In the dark, Chiyoh’s eyes are like two black holes with one spot of light. They’re unfathomable, so used to the dark as the owl’s. She averted her gaze and looked throw the window. “He was feral back then. Untamed. Reckless.” Silence. In the room, her words weighted like stalactites, sharp and heavy.  
She looked at Will and handed him a picture. Will took it and looked at it by the light of the window.  
In the picture, a young Asian girl was dressed in a long, flowery dress. It was white and had red flowers, sleeveless and tied to the waist. She was wearing a baggy grey cardigan over it. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and the hair around her face, middle-parted, sleek, was combed behind her ears. It was a sunny day and her eyes were slightly closed. The shadow of her hand, which was trying to protect her face from the sun, was falling over her childish but serious face. Next to her there was a young boy who was dressed in a simple but elegant suit. His right arm was around her shoulders. He was smiling and his eyes were slightly closed as well. His cheekbones casted pointed shadows over his face. His hair was parted on the side and a lock of hair was suspended over his forehead and right eye. Despite being younger the girl was tall enough to look like her girlfriend.  
Will took some time to run his eyes over it.  
“Yes, he was handsome” she said.  
“Were you…?” started to say Will.  
“Yes, I was” Chiyoh replied quickly. “Of course, I never told him, but he knew. He knows” added, as if answering to herself. “As I told you, he was more feral back then. Is delight something to be ashamed for? He still was experimenting, discovering himself, his limitless hunger. His brutality was raw back then. Sometimes he looked at himself in the mirror when his mouth and face was soaked in blood, some poor bastard still alive after ripping his face, ear, or organs out with his teeth in ecstasy. Sometimes we tortured animals- a cat playing with his food”, she said this emotionless, as if describing a landscape.  
Will’s empathy was something he still couldn’t totally control (and he knew he’s never could) and so he could see all those memories.  
“I told you about Mischa before”.  
“Yeah”, he said, and nodded.  
“I met her once, when my mum and I went to the Lecter’s mansion a long time ago. I was child and that memories are blurred. We then moved from Lithuania to Paris. After a few years, he moved with us, alone. At the beginning, Mischa… for him…” she paused, trying to find the right words, but it seems she couldn’t because she started a new sentence, “She was beautiful, small and with short blonde hair, like a doll.”  
Will and Chiyoh looked at each other in the darkness of the room.  
“Some men broke into the house that winter. There was a war going on…Winter there is…cruel. After a few months, all of them were deep in starvation. Hannibal used to describe how one morning he woke up to find dozens of stabbed birds in the snow. The night Hannibal turned himself in to the police I asked him if he killed Mischa. He said no.” Will and Chiyoh were still looking at each other across the room.  
“Well, that’s not necessarily true” for one second, Will recalled their story, Hannibal and his. The immeasurable lines and levels of thought of Hannibal’s brain, his coldness, his cruelty, his selfishness, his memory palace and the doors he doesn’t want to open. What kind of pain do they hide?  
“I know. Don’t undervalue me again, Will Graham: you may be close to him now but I’ve seen the beast seize his land.”  
Will could feel, in that flat tone, a taste of anger and something more irrational. He knew she felt, in a way, jealous pf their bound. He also knew she would never leave Hannibal. Never. And, to be honest, he had to admit that, like the stabbing pain he felt when thinking about the time Hannibal and Bedelia lived together, he felt something very similar regarding Hannibal’s and Chiyoh’s story, though being aware of that was not admitting it completely.  
In some way, their relationship was ruled by two opposite forces: their bound to Hannibal Lecter and the kind of resentment between opponents.  
“I don’t know if I want to know the truth.” Chiyoh’s voice brought Will back from his thoughts.  
To call a spade a spade (and being aware he couldn’t just erase all those years working for the FBI, there were four possibilities: first one, Vladis Grutas and the soldiers killed Mischa and ate her; second one, they killed Mischa, ate her and fed her to Hannibal; third one, Hannibal killed Mischa; fourth one, he killed her and ate her.  
“Well”, he said, finally, his hands wrapped together and his elbows settled over his knees, “whether what happened there, a beast can’t go against its nature”.

 

Will recalls this conversation while lying on the sofa, but his eyes are not looking at anything. One of his hands is under his head, the other one holding a book he found inside a box when he was looking for a needle.

When the stars threw down their spears   
And water'd heaven with their tears:   
Did he smile his work to see?   
Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

Tyger Tyger burning bright,   
In the forests of the night:   
What immortal hand or eye,   
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

He sighs. He doesn’t even know why the hell he’s reading this, he never felt interested in poetry. He guessed he was bored, plus (he had already resigned) he wanted to share something like this with Hannibal.

“What are you looking?”, asks Will, after feeling Hannibal’s eyes over him. He puts the book away and sits properly and then looks at Hannibal, who’s standing in the doorway.  
Hannibal doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he joins Will in the living room and settles in a single seater sofa.  
Will chuckles looking at the floor and then looks at him, smiling.  
Hannibal raises his chin, the shadow of a smile playing in his lips.  
“Your mind wanders through paths that are alien to me”, said Hannibal, “…still. I just can find delight in my isolation when I see you go there”.  
Hannibal knew Will doesn’t like compliments, specifically those regarding his physical appearance.  
Will looks at him and their eyes met.  
Hannibal told him that morning he had to get ready for tonight’s dinner but Will thought it was just something between them and, after putting on a black-knitted sweater over a red shirt and a grey jacket (which was hanging on the chair) and a pair of dark blue trousers, he forgot about it. He looked at Hannibal: he was wearing an expensive three-piece suit in light blue with a white shirt and a brown tie which pattern were just noticeable under some lights. A dark handkerchief was perfectly folded on the left pocket of his jacket. His hair was combed back, also perfectly placed. Will felt vertigo in his stomach and, suddenly, he felt his throat dry. Restless, he swallowed. How can this man arouse me like this in one fucking second? Am I a schoolgirl? They were still getting used to each other. They still haven’t…  
In that moment, the bell rings. That startled Will, who looked at the door and then back at Hannibal, a question hanging between them.

“Oh, yes, he’s here. We’ve got a guest tonight”, says Hannibal standing up.  
“What? Here?” Will asks, frowning.  
Hannibal looks at him for a second.  
“Yes”, he says, while heading to the door.  
For some reason, Will feels more pissed than surprised.

+++

“What are you doing here Jack?” is the first thing Alana said to him.  
“Well, long time no see you, hope you’re fine too” he says, hanging his coat.  
“Hello, Jack” says Margot.  
“Good to see you, Margot” replies Jack, nodding at her.  
He looks older than the last time they saw him.  
“Jack”, Alana says again, her arms folded, “what are you doing here”. The question sounds like a statement, every word carefully pronounced.  
“I have reasons to believe Hannibal Lecter’s still alive” he says, straight to the point. “as well as… Will Graham”. It’s obvious that saying this name was far more painful than the first one.  
Silence falls, heavy and thick, between them.  
“Ok”, says Alana, “thank you for coming. We’ll move…”  
“No, I need your help. You’re never going to be save, and you know this. We need to catch them.”  
“YOU need to catch them”.  
“Alana… your son’s never going to be save. He’ll grow up, and he’ll want to go out alone, and you won’t be able to stop him. WE need to catch them, and to do so, we need to be a step ahead”, he adds.  
“You know catching them is not enough.”  
“I know. Leave that to me.”  
Alana’s still reluctant, and again silence falls.  
“I received a call yesterday. Someone said he knew Hannibal was alive and where he’s hiding now. He said he would take me there if I gave him what he asked for. Money. I’m not going to go into details about it, that is sorted out. He hanged up and after that something shattered a window – it was a dead bird. It had been stabbed with a big stake, from this bag through his stomach. There was something else wrapped around the bird. I pulled the stake out and I cleaned the blood from the paper: it was a photograph.”  
Jack gives Alana the picture – there’s a window and inside the house Hannibal Lecter’s sitting down, reading. Margot looks at the picture as well, and after a few seconds she says:  
“Ok. What do you want us to do?”  
“Margot!”  
“I’m sorry, Alana, but Jack’s right, and if you still want to hold any faith regarding Will’s innocence I’d suggest you dismiss that”.  
Alana and Jack look at Margot, unable to reproach her words.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Things are still simmering here, but...
> 
> ...more interesting stuff (sex *cough) (violence *cough) and surprises are yet to come.
> 
> The poem quoted in this chapter is 'TheTyger' by William Blake.


End file.
